by Tom Marcus
‘Stations from Charlie Six One Two, be aware a white courier van has pulled up to the entrance of the executive suite, one female has exited the vehicle wearing a green fleece and walked to the rear of the van.’
‘Roger, thank you.’
‘Further, the last three of the VRN of the van are TANGO, FOXTROT, DELTA. It’s unmarked and at distance looks like a Volkswagen Caddy. Female removing flowers from the back of the van and is now towards the entrance.’
‘Roger, close-in cars get the full VRN imagery as it leaves then let it run, please.’
There was no need to follow the florist’s van away from here; even if the woman in the van was onside with the Russian, taking her on would split our team and we’d need every single asset available to make sure we got DIRTY BOOT bang to rights.
‘That’s the woman in the green fleece back out into the van, van reversing, and towards the barriers.’
‘And out of sight to Charlie Six One Two.’
‘Charlie Eight Five Zero, imagery obtained, full VRN WHISKY ALPHA ZERO SEVEN TANGO FOXTROT DELTA. Vehicle now running free to the north.’
‘Thanks, stations, good work.’
‘Charlie Six One Two, permission?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Base, do we have anything on HUNGRY WORM’s phone?’
‘No string.’
‘Roger, thanks. TC, back to you.’
‘Roger, no change.’
The blonde had obviously been told not to use her mobile phone to send messages to the Russian, hence no valuable electronic intercepts. It always made me smile when people referred to eavesdropping intelligence as ‘string’. It’s only the older officers who’ve been around a bit who call it that. It comes from the days when eavesdropping audio was recorded on cassette tapes and before that reels of tape. I remember Ian Grey briefing me on operations starting with, ‘Latest string intelligence suggests …’
‘STAND BY, STAND BY! That’s HUNGRY WORM OUT, OUT and walking towards the barriers, dressed as previous.’
As the close-in cars acknowledged, I resisted the urge to change my body position. I couldn’t go with her, but I knew this was potentially the start of a very busy day and the pick-up of your target determines how well the day is going to go. Get control of them straight away and you’re golden, fuck it up and you’re playing catch-up all day.
‘From Charlie Six One Two, for information she is not carrying anything other than her handbag, now five metres from the barriers.’
‘That’s HUNGRY WORM through the barriers towards the main and out of sight to me.’
‘Roger, Charlie Eight Five Zero has control, HUNGRY WORM walking towards the bus stop; she’s just looked at her watch and is now static on the west side of the main at the bus stop.’
‘Roger that, is she alone or can we send someone on with her?’
‘From Charlie Eight Five Zero, she’s alone and most of the buses have been fairly empty.’
We couldn’t risk sending anyone on the bus with her with it being so quiet. We’d have to watch her on to the bus and pursue it like a normal vehicle follow.
‘From Charlie Eight Five Zero, a number 82 single-decker bus is approaching from the south and pulling up to the stop. That’s HUNGRY WORM ON, ON to the bus, VRN to follow.’
‘Roger, stations, we’ll go with this.’
‘VRN KILO NINE EIGHT SEVEN KILO MIKE PAPA. Bus now heading north, can anyone take control?’
‘Charlie Seven Five can.’
‘Roger, all yours.’
As the bus travelled away from the area, we had no idea where she was going, and could only assume she was on her way to meet the Russian. We were blind here; we had to gain the advantage to avoid alerting the blonde or, even worse, the Russian. As the team leader asked the Operations Centre if they knew the destination of this bus, the team was constantly handing over as it made its third stop already. I was still in the car park and useless to the follow. I had a few minutes before my team leader would start checking up on my security. Fuck it, we needed to know what message was sent by the Russian.
Just before I left the car, I flicked my radio on so I could hear what the team was doing in case HUNGRY WORM decided to come back to the executive suite. I had to be careful here because DIRTY BOOT wasn’t being monitored today and could well be in the area. I walked across the car park towards the entrance of the executive suite. The team were still following the bus but were concerned about being spotted. The Russians knew what to look for and could be providing counter-surveillance for her.
As I approached the large frosted glass doors of the executive suite, the automatic sensors responded to me and opened swiftly. Moving into the large open-plan building, I could see the reception area where HUNGRY WORM would work; the place looked empty, so either the blonde didn’t get any cover and just left work or another receptionist was on their way. I had no cover story at all here, so I’d just have to improvise. I was proper risking it here. No one knew I was in HUNGRY WORM’s place of work and I doubt I would have been given permission to do so through fear of compromising the operation, but I needed to see if I could see the message that’d been sent with the florist.
The receptionist station was impressive and clearly designed to appeal to the corporate market. A fresh bunch of flowers sat next to a computer screen that had gone into screen-saver mode. There was a CCTV dome camera directly behind the desk. I was now officially here. Grabbing the leaflets next to me, I start reading about the building’s facilities and upcoming events. Folding the leaflet out, I raised it slightly higher as I leaned against the high counter surrounding the receptionist desk behind it. I had to look natural here and I was banking on the fact that if anyone was watching the CCTV live feed of me they wouldn’t be looking at my eyes, so I moved my head now and again as if reading the leaflet and peered over the top just enough to see the desk.
No greeting card on the flowers on the side I could see. I couldn’t check the other side of the flowers because it would look too obvious. Scanning the rest of the desk, I finally saw it. Fuck, upside down! I needed to adjust my position to allow me to focus on the hand-written message. Looking at my watch, I shifted half a pace to my right and picked up a different events flyer. Employing the same tactic as earlier, I looked ever so slightly over the flyer and focused hard on the small greeting card.
My beautiful lady, meet you same time at the Crescent.
I needed to get this to the team leader. I had to be ready to be severely bollocked for doing this without permission, but I could hear the team getting stretched as the bus now headed south on the dual carriageway. Checking my watch again and having a look around, I lived my cover as if I’d given up waiting for someone, and walked towards the exit. As the glass doors once again recognized my presence, they slid open.
‘Sir, can I help you?!’
Fuck. Turning around, I saw a security guard, about my height but twice as wide, his shoulders nearly bursting out of his clean pressed white shirt. Short, neat hair. His purposeful swagger, he was ex-military. I knew how to get this guy on side straight away; I needed to make him feel important.
‘Yes, brilliant. I need your help. I’m trying to organize a skydive for Sport Relief. I’m not sure I’ve come to the right place, though. You guys seem a bit upmarket?’
His posture changed straight away as he clearly enjoyed feeling important and part of an executive company.
‘We don’t really cater for things like that. We manage private flights for CEOs, and A-list celebrities. Things like that.’
‘Ah, that sounds exciting – bet you see all sorts, eh! All right then, I thought I had the wrong place, it must be one of the offices in the airport building.’
Turning back towards the exit, I took my opportunity to leave. As the security guard turned back towards his door hidden into the building’s wall, presumably leading to his office where he was monitoring the camera, I half turned towards him.
‘Thanks again, mate, ha
ve a good one.’
The trick to living your cover is to be natural with the environment, to blend in without creating a sign. Now, if anyone asked the security guard about me then he would remember me, but unless he was pushed he wouldn’t think I was a threat or out of place. It’s a balancing act. I just hoped the message I found was worth it and I wasn’t about to fall head first off this tightrope.
Walking back towards my car, I pulled my service-issue phone out of my pocket. I needed to get this information to the team leader but with the confidence of the team in me at an all-time low I couldn’t put this out on the net.
Don’t ask how, no compromise. Greeting card on blonde’s desk said: ‘My beautiful lady, meet you same time at the Crescent.’ I’m back in my car now.
It took the team leader about thirty seconds to reply to my text message.
‘Roger, we’ll discuss this later.’
Yep, that was me in for a kicking later, then. Fuck it! I tried to help this operation. I was already the naughty boy of the team. Can’t be in any more shit than I already am, I thought. I had to get with the follow, and judging by the team’s comms I had about five miles of ground to make up. Driving slowly out of the car park, I waited until I was well out of sight of the executive suite and potentially the security guard, then started accelerating hard to catch my team up.
‘Base, permission.’
‘Go ahead, bus continuing south on the Alpha Three Three One.’
‘Meeting place between DIRTY BOOT and HUNGRY WORM is believed to be at the RHS garden in Wisley, specifically the glasshouse. No time, unfortunately.’
‘Roger, thank you, Base. Charlie Eight Five Zero, Nine Seven, Three Five and Two Three, get ahead at Wisley, please, page fifty-eight on your map books.’
Obviously the team leader forwarded my text on to the operations officers and they cross-referenced that with the grid and known meeting places or dead-drop sites. Sometimes the Russians would leave packages or encrypted memory sticks at prearranged sites called dead drops. Later on, the intended recipient would see the sign that a drop had been made and collection of the item was permitted. All the sites are covert and quite often hidden in plain sight. Most intelligence agencies use this method when stealing secrets on foreign soil and the British government is no different. We all do it.
‘From Charlie One Eight. That’s HUNGRY WORM OFF, OFF the bus on the east side of the Alpha Two Eight Seven just before the junction of Trafalgar Court, HOLD BACK, HOLD BACK.’
Turning the car into the nearest side street, I waited around the corner, approximately five hundred metres away. We were still a way off from the RHS garden and the village of Wisley yet. I was starting to wonder whether the intelligence I got from the greeting card was right: had I read it wrong? The team could be on the wrong track because of me.
‘STAND BY, STAND BY. That’s DIRTY BOOT in a black cab taxi driving south and pulling alongside HUNGRY WORM now, VRN to follow.’
Shit! The Russian was employing anti-surveillance techniques with the blonde. This was designed to make it harder, much harder, for any surveillance team following to keep hold of these two. We expected the Russian to be slippery but the team presumed the blonde would be an easier follow and lead us straight to DIRTY BOOT without alerting him. We now had the risk that the Russian had actually followed us the whole way from the executive suite to this point.
‘VRN of the taxi, YANKEE SEVEN ONE ONE ECHO ALPHA ECHO. DIRTY BOOT is facing with a view to the rear of the taxi, HUNGRY WORM is now IN, IN the taxi and continuing southbound on the Alpha Two Eight Seven. Charlie One Eight is NOT with.’
‘Roger. All stations, get ahead to Wisley gardens, STEEL BADGE, STEEL BADGE.’
The team leader didn’t have to tell us not to drive past the taxi on our way to Wisley; we were all experienced enough to know that would be operational suicide. You want to remain in the shadows around your target as much as possible, especially Russian targets.
I knew from my position I could box round, but the taxi would soon be on a national speed limit dual carriageway towards Wisley, so I’d have to do some serious driving to get ahead of him. Into first gear, handbrake off, map book on my lap, I saw a rough group of streets that would allow me to box round back onto the main dual carriageway and if I got there quick enough I could be in front of the taxi without being seen by either target.
Wheel-spinning away when trying to drive at speed looks dramatic but does fuck all for your progression. The car is another tool for us to use, and it has to be used correctly. Applying just enough acceleration to get away quick enough without spinning my tyres, I approached the first side street I needed to box round to gain the advantage over the taxi. The team was taking a massive risk here; we had dropped both targets now and were all flying towards the Royal Horticultural Society’s showpiece gardens. If that was false information designed to throw us off track we’d lose coverage of this meeting entirely.
‘Stations for information, HUNGRY WORM’s phone now appears to be OFF.’
Typical. All we could do now was fly up to Wisley as fast as we could and hope the surveillance dice rolled in our favour this time. Making the first turn, the back end of the car stepped out slightly as the tyres struggled to hold on to the tarmac as I kept applying the power. I saw two other cars following me down the same side street, both my team cars. Obviously we all held back at a similar time when the bus stopped and taxi arrived. Into third gear as I hit 75mph down this side street. You always have to be mindful driving at these speeds about what you can and can’t see. This street was fairly quiet with one or two cars parked along the road so we could see if there were any small children on the pavements or car doors about to open.
Hard on the brakes to make the next turning, the nose of the car dove into the black tarmac as the team car directly behind me grew massive in my mirrors. As we made the next turning we were met with speed-restriction bumps. Thankfully they were the island bumps rather than the speed strips that go the full width of the road and we could straddle them easily. Back on the power and accelerating hard down this long straight, I remembered from the brief map study I did that this road loosely paralleled the dual carriageway the taxi would be on. We needed to keep pushing.
No oncoming traffic as we fast approached a learner driver in a small Ford Fiesta having a driving lesson. Fuck knows what the driving instructor and learner would have been thinking as we blasted past doing 110mph and still accelerating in perfect formation, no indication or lights. Very smooth and slick, but extremely fast, nearly four times the speed limit for this road.
Seeing the T-junction ahead, I stayed on the power. I knew the brakes of our team cars were as good as they could be. All three of us would wait for my cue to hit the brakes to give us all the best chance of getting in front of the taxi. As we continued past the road-warning signs telling us to slow down ahead of the junction, I could see the view opening up, giving a great view of the dual carriageway in both directions. We wouldn’t be stopping here, we’d slow down just enough to allow us to take the corner and try to carry as much speed as possible through it.
Leaving it as late as I dared, I hit the brakes and block changed down the gears from sixth to fourth; once the engine revs had dropped enough I changed down again to help slow the car down as quickly as possible. All three of us were now only metres apart, we were making a hell of a noise and there was no way anyone could operate in this area now because our driving had made the area red hot, but we were praying the Russian hadn’t noticed.
Double-checking there was still no traffic on the dual carriageway, I kept the power steady as I made the turn at nearly 40mph in second gear. As my turn straightened out I piled on the power again, up into third gear, engine revs climbing. Checking my wing mirror, I saw that the other two members of my team had made the turn too. There was no way I could see, given our distance down the dual carriageway, that the taxi could have made it in front of us. We’d done it, but the hard work wasn’t over
. Now we needed to make it into Wisley even quicker than we’d made it to the dual carriageway.
Overtaking anything in our path, the three of us set off a speed camera; the blinding flashes filled my car first, then the other two. Things like parking tickets and London congestion charges just got paid by the service. However, all three of us getting flashed together at 140mph would take some explaining. Not my problem.
‘Team leader, from lead vehicles. We are now in position at the gardens.’
‘Roger, thank you, can we get imagery as they enter?’
‘Yes, and Nine Seven is on foot with her camera taking pictures of the plantlife with a long lens.’
‘Great, thank you.’
It’s a good advantage for us that the meeting is in Wisley as it does give us the excuse of getting people in with cameras taking pictures of the plants, but you can kick the arse out of it. If you deploy too many people and this Russian knew a normal day here, then it would soon become obvious to him if there were more long-lens cameras than normal. One woman in her late forties with a camera taking pictures of flowers would be enough to get a crystal-clear image of both targets.
Seeing the tourist road signs for the RHS gardens ahead, I took the last turning off the main and parked up in between two cars, facing away from the road junction.
‘Charlie Six One Two in position north. I can give possibles for the taxi towards the Wisley entrance.’
‘Charlie Eight Five Zero, roger that, I can confirm anything you give towards the entrance.’
Using my wing mirror again to see the main road behind me, I switched the engine off and waited for any black taxis driving past. The net had gone quiet while we waited, no transmissions; the only noise I could hear now was the car ticking from being worked so hard to get here.
‘Black cab taxi heading southbound towards the Wisley entrance, out of sight to Charlie Six One Two.’
